DISCLAIMER: I'm coming off a sugar high, and haven't slapped the wonder weasel in three days. Also, this. Can you fucking believe that? I can't. Not really. I need to come to grips with it. And whatdaya know, you want a game. And I, as a game designer, come to grips with my world by making video games.

We can work this out.

Okay, so it's called Betrayal. It's in three (3) acts. Three, because if it's good enough for Miyamoto, it's good enough for our sorry asses. So three acts. Grab your blow, this is gonna get silly.

ACT 1:

You're in your apartment. Your character is watching TV. You are looking through the eyes of your character. Two people on the TV are talking. Text scrolls all over them, under them, on top of them, beneath them. The information is coming, not in floods, but in worthless pittances, enough to keep your head just informed ENOUGH so that your character knows what they are talking about. You don't. The text is in a nonsense language. The people are talking nonsense words, but man, they're talking that nonsense with such passion. Your character mumbles their nonsense. Maybe he agrees with the one on the left? The right? What about the guy who they occasionally cut to? What's that fuckers problem? His nonsense words seem different from everyone else's nonsense words, and fuck if they don't know it, and hate it. They hate their nonsense being intruded upon by this other fuckers nonsense, and it seems like after a while, they (the initial fuckers) ignore him (the fucker-they-sometimes-cut-to). Your character mumbles their nonsense, laughs, mumbles, YELLS, mumbles.

You walk to the fridge. Your character trudges along, mumbling the nonsense, yelling the nonsense, laughing the nonsense. E to interact with fridge. E to eat from fridge.

There is a knock on your door.

"Your building is burning down."

ACT TWO:

Your character walks to the door, no nonsense pouring forth from his mouth, only the slight flip of his flops to fill the void.

The TV is silent.

You open the door, and HOLY SHIT THERE IS FIRE EVERYWHERE. HOW LONG HAS THIS BEEN HAPPENING?

"A while." says the man at the door. He hands you an extinguisher. "You take the left side."

The camera pulls out. Your character is in his boxers, with willy pink and blue flip-flops. Not attire with which to fight a fire. You turn around, to get decent, and see your apartment in flames, the TV completely wasted.

"Let's GO!" the impatience in clear.

And so you go. As you move down the halls together, you fight the fire, but only in a Rear-Guard action it is to pervasive, to massive to truly take down, with only the two of you. As you two move on, he knocks on doors, and invites you to do the same. Sometimes you can here the nonsense coming full blast from behind the closed doors.

These ones you learn not to waste time on.

Some you can here knocking on their own doors.

These ones you learn not to pass up.

The more people you get, the more your party grows, and the more extinguishers you have to wield. But alas, the hallways grow to, from narrow corridors, to sweeping arches. Soon, they are not even hallways, but rather ballrooms, with pillars falling, and fires consuming. You fight, back to back, shoulder to shoulder, cheek to jowl, any body part to any other fucking body part, as long as the fucking fire stays back you don't even give a fuck. The fire must be halted.

And above all, no nonsense. From anyone.

You make it out.

And when you do, there she is...THE FIRE HYDRANT. The initial dude, the one that saved you busts out some hoses**, and yall take that motherfucking fire down. It fights, it wimpers, and it rages, but you kill it slowly, surely, and inexorably. It feels good.

"This will never happen again." No one said it. Everyone said it. No one disagrees.

ACT THREE:

You're in your knew, awesome, high-end apartment. Everyone you saved is there, and man, things are looking good! You just gotta keep the drinks flowin, and the food cookin. Awww yeah. It's gonna be a party toNITE!

People are talkin, but man, ain't no nonsense to be heard. They're talkin about real shit, about fire safety, and lax building standards, and poor fire department equipment. REAL SHIT.

So you do your host thang, keepin on keepin on. You can't really join in on a talk, but man, the sound to no-nonsense is just so beautiful, it a wonder simply to be near it. Eventually, when your score is high enough***, everyone huddles around the TV. When you approach, they let you get to your seat, right in front of the BIG SCREEN TV BABY! YEAH!

You sit, and wait.

The people are back on, back with their nonsense. You grin. Their time is short.

On come the Man-With-The-Equipment. The Man-With-The-Plan. Your man.

Their nonsense reaches historic proportions. It's as if they can sense that their world is about to come crumbling down. The moment of truth is at hand. He opens his mouth.

So hey, Obama released some DOJ memos today. But he all but swore not to prosecute the CIA officials responsible...but he seems to have left the door open to prosecution of Bush officials...hmm...I'd add a new act, but I really just wanna wait to see where this goes.